Just Watch the Fireworks
by Kirachu
Summary: Aya and Ken spend a night together searching for normalcy.


**Just Watch the Fireworks**  
**by Kira** (kirabop@hotmail.com) 

**Author's Notes:** Equation for fluffy fic. Stick two fan girls together. Present them with two good looking boys. Add in hours of discussion and boom. A fluffy fic idea spawns. And this is it. Enjoy! 

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_Just so I can hear you  
I stay up as late as it takes  
As long as it takes  
I promised I'd see it again  
I promised I'd see this with you now  
_ -- Jimmy Eat World "Just Watch the Fireworks" 

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"C'mon, Aya!" 

"No." 

"You said you would." 

"I never said that." 

He hadn't. Sometimes Ken forgot what a disgustingly good memory Aya had. 

"Just go," Youji interjected. The smell of the smoke from his cigarette wafted into the side room, where Ken and Aya stood, arguing. Omi was seated, most predictably, at his desk watching them, curious. Aya, with his arms folded and eyes closed, eyebrows narrowed in, was the picture of his classic 'no way in hell' expression. Ken sighed, exasperated, and looked to Omi and Youji for help. 

"It'd be good for you to get out a little, Aya-kun," Omi tried. 

Ken grinned, a silent thanks for his help. 

"No." 

And once again his shoulders fell dejectedly. 

It had been the same for the past week. Ken would casually slip it into conversation, as subtly as possible, and Aya would always know exactly what he was getting at and would give that flat-toned 'no' of his. Youji had advised him that maybe it wasn't worth killing himself over, trying so damn hard to get Aya to do something he didn't want to do. But Ken never gave up so easily. It was one of his stupid little quirks. Stupid especially when it came to Aya. 

He was stubborn, headstrong, reckless, uncaring for the feelings of others around him -- a complete jerk. Sometimes Ken wondered why he cared at all. 

He opened his mouth. 

"No." 

"Why _not_?!" Ken burst out, exasperated. 

Aya opened a single eye, and almost warily, cast a glance around the room. Ken followed his gaze. He wasn't just looking at the room. He was looking deliberately at Youji and Omi. A soft mutter, barely audible, escaped his lips. 

"... what?" 

The other eye opened and he fixated a glare on Ken. 

"I'm not wearing a kimono." 

Omi actually fell backwards in his computer chair. He had been leaning back, trying to get closer to be able to hear what Aya had said beneath his breath, and the wheels slipped out beneath him and down he went. It would have been amusing, if both Ken and Youji had not had their attention transfixed on Aya. They stared at him, wondering... 

Was that _all_? 

"You don't have to," Ken sputtered out finally. "Really, we can just go in our normal clothes, it's not like it's expected to dress like that." 

The corners of his lips were turned down in that irritated frown of his. Ken knew that expression. It wasn't a 'I'm annoyed with all of you' frown or a 'I'm going to kill you' frown, but a 'I'm giving in to this and I don't like it' frown. 

"So... does that mean you'll go?" 

Ken tried not to sound and look as hopeful as he was. Aya looked back at him for a long moment, their eyes locked together. Aya finally broke the gaze. His eyes fell to the floor. 

"Fine." 

"F... fine?" 

"Don't make me say it again." 

Ken brightened immediately. "No, no, I won't, just... thanks." 

Aya did not respond. He moved away from the wall he had been leaning against, retrieved his jacket from where he had tossed it carelessly across the couch, and started up the stairs. Ken glanced around, somewhat bemused, at Youji and Omi. Youji flashed him a thumbs up. 

"You boys have fun now, and don't do anything I wouldn't do." 

"That leaves them kind of wide open, doesn't it?" Omi piped up, grinning. 

Youji grinned back. "Of course." 

Ken raced up the stairs. The back door of the shop was open. He slipped through and found Aya waiting for him, arms folded. Ken barely contained a sigh. The way Aya was acting, someone would think that he was forcing him to go to his own grave. 

But then Aya always looked like he was walking to his death. 

Ken closed the door behind him, and pressing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, walked out onto the sidewalk. Aya followed. 

He had to wonder, glancing at Aya, why he had even conceded to come at all. Aya had a natural aversion to being in public. Sometimes he would leave the shop and go on long walks through the city, and he could interact with the customers and just ordinary people when he had to, but Ken had always seen that if he could have avoided it, he would. He thought for awhile that it was just the way Aya was, that being the person he was, being with others bothered him. But then he had noticed... it was more that he was uncomfortable. 

He wondered if that was enough. Aya worked in the flower shop, did what was expected of him with Weiss, and never bothered to look or ask for anything more. He could live by a routine. Ken was almost envious of him. If only life could be that easy. 

It had never been like that for him. The lines between who he was with Weiss and who he was as a person blurred together, meshed and were the same. He had never been able to differentiate between the former soccer player and current murderer. There had never been a difference between the two. They were always the same, no matter how different each persona was. Aya was the same. He was Fujimiya Aya, the cold, aloof guy that worked in the flower shop, and Fujimiya Aya, the assassin. 

The difference was that Aya could live with both of those personas being one in the same. Ken had never been able to. He wanted there to be a difference between the two. He wanted to be able to know that no matter what he did in Weiss, he had another life to fall back on. He needed to believe that he was more than a murderer. 

Aya had it much easier than he did. Maybe he had it right, too. 

"Don't brood." 

Ken looked up, startled. Aya turned his gaze away as soon as their eyes met and gave a shrug of his shoulders, a dismissive gesture. 

"I must be brooding pretty damn bad if you're telling me not to," Ken said, grinning. 

Aya glanced at him, briefly, but long enough that Ken was able to feel the full intensity of his glare. He was convinced that someday, if Aya thought about it hard enough, someone he fixated that glare on would melt into a puddle of goo. 

He used to argue with Aya all of the time until he realized how pointless it was. Aya was stubborn enough that if he said the sky was green, the sky would be green. He could remember times being mad enough that he wanted to do nothing but punch him across the face, but something had always stopped him. Sheer perseverance, he guessed. By giving in he would have been giving up. 

He won in other ways. Aya could always win an argument, but Ken had other means. He could, when he wanted to, convince Aya to do anything. He had no idea why. Aya always gave in to him. He had known even when he had thought there was no hope to get Aya to come with him he would give in eventually. Maybe Aya just had fun teasing him or something. 

That thought still made Ken want to punch him. 

They were approaching the park. Ordinarily, at that time of night, only the lampposts that lined the walkways would be lit up. But tonight dozens of lanterns had been put out, some hanging from trees, others up on posts pressed into the ground, illuminating the entire area. The paths that winded through the park were lined with shops and booths, and people were everywhere. Most of the time, people had to leave the city to go to small events like this -- just a simple market festival -- but on the rare occasion they were held in the city. 

Aya made a sound beside him. 

"What?" Ken asked. 

"Nothing." 

It was always nothing. But he wasn't going to let it get to him. 

"C'mon, you said you'd come," Ken said. "Now do us both a favor and at least pretend you're a normal human being for one night." 

Taking him by the wrist, Ken pulled Aya along. He had overheard a conversation between a couple high school girls that were in the shop that an event like this would be held soon. When he was younger, he had gone to a few, and feeling nostalgic -- something he thought kind of ridiculous -- he had thought it'd be fun to go. And he knew he wanted to bring Aya along. 

Of course, the whole equation of 'fun' plus Aya really didn't work out all that well. 

They passed by a family of three, a husband and wife with their young daughter. Ken would not have noticed, if they had not been dressed in kimonos. He looked back at Aya, barely containing his grin. 

"I told you," Aya said. Not in a 'I told you so' way, but more of a simple statement. 

"I know, I know." Ken also knew that wrestling Aya into a kimono would have been a sight to remember, but it would have taken he, Youji, and Omi together, and by the time they actually got him into it, they would have been too exhausted to do anything else with the night. 

They came to a booth that was selling sweets, and not bringing his own wallet along, Ken forced Aya to pay. Aya rolled his eyes and muttered a few things under his breath, but obviously did not care as much as he was putting on. Ken walked away, popping M&M's into his mouth, and grinning. Aya followed with a sigh. 

Ken recognized a few of the regulars to the flower shop as they walked along, more interested in looking around and gathering things in than doing anything. He offered some of them waves and friendly smiles, but if he could help it, kept walking on to avoid being dragged over or shoved into some embarrassing position. The other three could handle the flock of teenage girls they seemed to be constantly surrounded by, Youji with his flirting, Omi with his kindness, and Aya with his abrasiveness. Ken had never learned a way of coping. Most of the time, he just ended up blushing and sputtering. 

He remembered thinking when they had first come together to form Weiss that it was going to be an absolute disaster. Four more conflicting personalities could not have been orchestrated as well as it had been for them. Youji was the careless, flirtatious one, Omi the kind and innocent one, Aya the aloof and cold one. 

He was... the blushing idiot, apparently. 

Shaking his head, smiling slightly, he brushed the thoughts away. No matter what he was, he had a sense of belonging with the others. They saw what he saw and did as he did. Conflicting personalities did not change the bond they shared. 

He was thinking too much again. Lifting a hand, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked around. Aya continued to walk beside him, saying nothing, but for once the complete silence did not bother Ken. Sometimes he tried his damndest to get even a few words from Aya. Sometimes it frustrated him so much it was yet another reason why he wanted to punch Aya. But sometimes the silence meant more than words. 

Walking with him, in that companionable silence, that was enough. 

"Hey, there's supposed to be fireworks later," he spoke up, not to begin a conversation, just to say something at all. 

Aya glanced at him, acknowledging his words, but said nothing. 

"Let's stick around for that." 

He looked at Aya. There was a brief few seconds of silence, as Aya looked back at him, studying his face, before he nodded his assent. Ken grinned. 

Sometimes he wanted to ask... _what do you think of me? What do I matter to you?_ He wanted to know. Aya was never forthcoming with what he was feeling, how he felt about someone, anything. Everything he kept hidden. 

Aya had kept away from all of them if he could in the beginning. When he had to, he worked with them, and he worked well. But he never had any intention of making friends with them. 

The change had happened gradually. He began to slowly show more concern. He went out of his way when it was completely unnecessary to keep an eye on them. Ken knew that Aya had followed him when the mission involving Kase had come up. At that time, he had been furious with him for not trusting him to be able to do it on his own. But then he realized it had nothing to do with whether or not Aya thought he could. He just wanted to be sure that everything was all right. 

Subtle things like that made Ken think, even briefly, that Aya did care. But then he showed so well the rest of the time that he didn't. 

Now he had no idea what was happening. Aya never sought out anyone's company deliberately, but when Ken dragged him out, forced him to do things, go to the arcade with him, to the movie theatre, he never said no. He just went along. He made a show of not wanting to, but... Ken had to wonder if he really meant it. 

He sighed. Stupid thoughts to be having anyway. It was more frustrating than productive to wonder why Aya did the things he did. If he didn't stop, he really would punch him just for the hell of it. 

"You're brooding again." 

Ken looked back at him and folded his arms. "Who says you've got any room to talk?" 

Aya rolled his eyes. "You're the one that wanted to come here and act normal." 

He had wanted to. No, he _had_ to. He couldn't stay there, smothered in that place, staring at the television screen, wondering when would the next time Persia appeared there would come. Wondering when the next time would be that he returned to the shop and had to clean the blood from his clothes and weapons. Wondering who the next target would be. Always wondering. 

He looked up, surprised, as a hand fell to rest against the back of his neck, fingers pressed into his hair. Aya continued to walk like that, not bothering even give him a half-way glance. 

"Idiot," he murmured softly. 

He dropped his hand. Ken continued to watch him from the corner of his eye. 

He had done that often lately, being far more willing than he had ever been before to show what could have been the faintest hint of affection. It was the small things. A careless touch that might have been construed as an accident, another that meant nothing yet at the same time meant so much. He never did it with anyone but Ken. 

Which confused the hell out of him and frustrated and, yet again, wanting to haul out and punch him. 

"Aya?" he asked, slowly. 

Aya was looking away, watching people as they smiled, listening to their voices and laughter. It was one of his few unguarded moments. The usual defenses he wore around himself were gone, replaced with a look of not vulnerability -- but emptiness. An intense loneliness. 

Ken tugged on his arm. "Aya?" 

Aya turned to look at him. Shields back up. The look was gone, replaced by his usual expression that showed nothing and gave nothing. 

"C'mon, let's go sit somewhere," Ken suggested, offering him a smile. "It's loud here." 

Aya did not need to say anything. Ken knew by the vague expression on his face, the way that he held himself, that he wanted to. Dropping his hand from Aya's arm, he maneuvered his way through the throng of people, down the pathway everyone stood on and the shops and booths were lined along. 

Aya followed him without a word. It would have meant nothing to Ken, if he hadn't thought abruptly that Aya was _trusting_ him to lead the way. He was following him blindly, letting him be in control, and trusting him. 

That meant something. 

Ken dropped down beneath the trunk of an enormous cherry tree. They were still close enough that they could see the lights and hear the faint voices of people, but far enough away that they were almost completely alone. Aya settled down beside him, one leg propped up, the other stretched out. Ken tucked his hands behind his head and leaned back against the trunk of the cherry tree. 

"You really don't like being around people, do you?" he asked, slowly. 

Aya was quiet for a moment. Finally, he shrugged. "I'd rather be alone." 

"You're with me," Ken pointed out. 

"You wouldn't have shut up until I agreed to go." 

Ken made a face. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something scathing in return, but looking up at Aya, he saw a faint look of amusement on his face, and had to bite back the insult. 

"You looked uncomfortable." 

Aya glanced at him. 

"Like you really didn't want to be there." 

"I was thinking of someone," Aya said, dismissively. 

Ken sat up. "Who?" 

"It doesn't matter." 

He wasn't going to give anything. Ken would have argued it, tried to pressure him until telling him more like normal. But he could tell that it was something that Aya did not want to talk about, something he was keeping closely guarded. Whatever it was, it was too personal to share. 

"Okay." 

He shifted away from the tree, closer to Aya. Their shoulders brushed. Ken knew that Aya felt the touch, but he did not move away. Piece by piece, Aya was letting him closer. Ken wondered whether or not he should press his luck and try to slide closer. 

He didn't need to. Aya leaned his shoulder against him, resting his weight on him, gently. Ken shifted into a more comfortable position. The arm that had been resting carelessly over his waist fell to his side, and he was startled to feel Aya's hand there. Aya didn't try to shake him away. 

The sky exploded in light. Yellows and oranges, blues and greens, reds and purples. The dying embers of the fireworks fluttered down from the sky, amidst the stars. Another shot high up into the sky and burst in a green canopy of light, sparkles of white dancing amongst the green. Up went to another that screamed as it rose and popped loudly when it exploded in the sky. 

"Cool." Eloquent, a voice in the back of Ken's mind muttered at him. He shoved it away. 

"Aa." 

Ken looked away from the fireworks to Aya. Another exploded in a burst of color and light that illuminated both their face. Ken almost thought Aya was smiling. But it was probably jus the way the light had fallen on him. 

"Hey." He spoke quietly. Aya looked away from the sky, back down to him. 

"Thanks for coming with me. Uh, I mean... you really didn't have to, but you did, and so you know, uh... thanks." 

He was the blushing idiot all right. Youji would have been laughing his ass off right about now. 

But not Aya. Aya just watched him silently. The gaze made him feel vaguely comfortable. He turned away, embarrassed. 

Aya lifted a hand and dropped it to the back of his neck. 

"... idiot. Just watch the fireworks." 

He looked up. 

Aya was smiling. 


End file.
